


(i just wanna) dance with you

by moonlitserenades



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 01:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18954823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitserenades/pseuds/moonlitserenades
Summary: Maybe in some different alternate universe, Grizz had been brave enough to ask Sam to prom.In which Grizz pines, and Sam is maybe a little bit defensive.





	(i just wanna) dance with you

Maybe in some different alternate universe, Grizz had been brave enough to ask Sam to prom. 

Maybe he'd done it like Luke had for Helena--some elaborate promposal complete with a dozen roses and a cheesy speech. 

But, well. No. 

It's not like Grizz even knows Sam that well, but he doesn't seem like the type who'd want something so showy. And Grizz can't imagine a world where he would've felt comfortable doing something like that, anyway. 

So no promposal. 

Maybe alternate-alternate universe Grizz and alternate-alternate universe Sam are friends, and the asking hadn't even been stressful. Maybe they'd been hanging out, playing video games or something, and Grizz had just hit pause, and asked when Sam turned to look at him quizzically. 

He would've signed it, too. That Grizz would've known sign language. He would've taken the time to learn. 

Whenever he imagines it, that’s Grizz's favorite version. 

He thinks about it a lot. 

Even here, even with all the other completely whacked-out bullshit that's been going on, when people had started talking prom, those daydreams had resurfaced.

Now that school wasn’t an option, he’d found himself thinking up new places--and ways--to ask. 

Bumping into Sam in the grocery store and blurting it out when they both reached for the same carton of milk. 

Going to sit with him in the cafeteria and casually bringing up the prom like he was so suave, like, “So are you looking forward to prom? Think you’ll go with anyone?” In that one, Sam usually either shrugs shyly or says something cheeky like “I don’t know--have anyone in mind?” 

Showing up at Sam’s house and asking if he wanted to go for a walk. He liked that one a lot because it gave him an opportunity to get to know Sam better. Not that he even knew what Sam’s answers would be to the dozens of questions Grizz has been wanting to ask him for years, so usually he just thinks about easy chatter, their hands lightly bumping into each other as they walk. And then he would skip to the end--dropping Sam back off at his house and, just as Sam was about to go inside, grabbing his hand at the last minute and saying, “Hey, so I was thinking maybe we could do prom?” And Sam would grin and say, “Of course,” and Grizz would find himself sitting alone in his room or wherever, grinning like an idiot as though he’d actually managed to follow through.

But time had passed, and prom had gotten closer, and he still hadn't even managed to have a real conversation with Sam, much less ask him out.

And now they're at prom, and those thoughts still won't leave him alone. 

He’s already danced with a few of the girls and done the same stupid choreographed thing the team did at every dance, every year. He nearly trips over Clark, laughing hysterically, and as he stumbles away, he catches sight of Sam, walking in with Becca. He’s smiling fondly at her as she signs, and Grizz only realizes he’s been staring when Jason accidentally steps on his foot. 

“Dude. You good?”

“Yeah. Spaced out for a second.” 

“I know how we can fix that,” Luke crows, pressing another beer into Grizz’s hand. He’s got one of his own, and he holds it up in an obvious challenge. It’s a relief to have something non-Sam-related to focus on, and Grizz makes short work of the drinking contest, beating Luke, then Clark without a flicker of hesitation.

He doesn’t mean to tell the rest of the guys about how he never planned to talk to any of them again after leaving West Ham. It had just slipped out, buoyed by the warm haziness of his own intoxication. He’s not sure if they’d believed him, and quite frankly, he doesn’t care. All he cares about right now is the fact that telling them that--admitting some small part of his secret self--had finally, _finally_ taken a little bit of the weight off his shoulders.

Okay, so he’s a little drunk. (A lot drunk.) But it’s starting to feel like maybe tonight, he’ll find a way to be that other Grizz. Or at least, some better version of him--the one he wanted himself to be. 

He actually manages to let himself get lost in the music for a while, dancing crazily until he’s beginning to think he might actually die if he doesn’t go get some water. On his way to the refreshment table, though, he spots Sam, sitting by himself at a table away from the dance floor. Still riding the high from his earlier conversation with the guys, Grizz finds himself actually daring to approach the table, pull out the chair beside him, and sit down.

This is, of course, when his newfound well of courage dries up. Sam looks up, makes eye contact, and Grizz immediately forgets how to speak. He nods instead, awkwardly, and Sam nods back. He wants. He wants to reach out and touch Sam’s hand where it rests on the tablecloth, wants to see what it might be like to make Sam smile. He reaches out, his heart fluttering violently in his throat, and then panics and fiddles with one of the abandoned place cards instead. Sam’s staring at the table like he’s trying to burn a hole in it, and Grizz watches him and wishes he were braver.

Sam’s the brave one, it turns out. “How do you like prom?” he asks, his forehead creased in adorable confusion, like he's trying to make sense of why Grizz is here. (Is there worry there, too? The thought of that makes Grizz’s stomach lurch unpleasantly, and it takes him a moment to realize that he hasn’t responded yet.) 

“What?” he manages, wondering if his face is actually on fire, and hoping that he’s managed to buy himself enough time to come up with a satisfactory answer to the question.

“I’m sorry. I don’t speak very well,” Sam is saying, and oh. God. _I’m such an idiot._ Sam has barely finished repeating himself before Grizz is blurting a panicked answer.

“Oh, no. No. You speak--you speak fine.” He’s gesticulating rather more than he normally would, and it occurs to him that Sam might think he’s making fun of his signing. He can’t seem to stop himself, though. “It’s--the music is really loud,” he finishes lamely, and wonders if it’s too dramatic to pray for the ground to swallow him whole so that he can stop making such an ass of himself.

Sam nods, looking wryly amused. The _I wouldn't know,_ though unspoken, couldn't be more obvious. Desperate to salvage whatever he can of this ridiculous conversation, Grizz flails his arms slightly to catch Sam’s attention, and then signs, “bullshit.”

“What?” Sam mouths. But at least he’s laughing a little, which is pretty much the best Grizz had hoped for. 

“It’s the only sign that I know,” he says, hoping his smile doesn’t look as manic as it feels.

Sam laughs again. Grizz realizes that he doesn’t remember ever having made Sam laugh before, and that seems unbearable all of a sudden. Beside him, Sam is pulling a face, like fair enough, but it’s not, really. 

He scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably, takes a deep breath, and channels alternate-alternate universe Grizz. The one who makes the effort instead of letting fear paralyze him. “Hey, uh...you think you could teach me something else?”

Sam makes that face again--the adorable, crinkly, oh, what the hell face that makes something fizzy bubble up in Grizz’s chest--and signs something.

“What does that mean?” He’s nervous, out of nowhere. It’s not even that he expects something in particular, just...it feels like he’s asked something much more important than he has, for some reason.

Sam looks away, and when he meets Grizz’s eyes again, there’s something terribly vulnerable in his expression. “I hated high school.”

And that’s...that _hurts._

He swallows hard. Nods. Wishes that there was something he could say, some way he could make it better. But there’s not, and he knows that. So instead he sits silent, trying to hang onto the last dregs of bravery that had brought him here in the first place. 

Sam has looked away again and is staring off across the dance floor, chewing anxiously on his lower lip. It’s such a stark contrast from the way Grizz had seen him earlier, twirling Becca across the room, both of them laughing so hard they were nearly falling over, that it feels like a punch in the gut. He draws a fortifying breath, steels himself, and reaches out. His fingers barely brush Sam’s shoulder, but it feels like an electric shock all the same. Sam turns to look at him, eyebrows lifted quizzically, and Grizz’s heart has the absolute nerve to skip a beat.

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

Sam blinks at him, clearly trying to decide whether to lie or not, and then he just shrugs.

“Did, um...did Becca leave?” It feels like a confession. _I paid attention to who you were with. I care._

“Uh, yeah.” Sam rubs the back of his neck, sighing. “We had a fight, actually.”

“Oh! Oh, man. Is everything okay?”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his hands over his face, just for a second. When he looks up, his eyes are wet. “I don’t know. Not really.”

“Do you need to go and talk to her?” 

“I want to, but I think she needs me to give her some space.”

Grizz nods, tugging at the cuff of his button-down. “Do you need a distraction?”

Sam shrugs again, the tiniest of smiles flitting across his lips. “Maybe.”

Heart kicking into high gear, Grizz tips his head toward the gyrating crowd. “You wanna dance?”

Sam’s face goes blank, but for a tiny crease between his eyebrows. He’s normally so expressive, but now it’s like a door has slammed shut. “Don’t do that.”

Grizz’s heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

“I don't want your pity.”

 _Fuck._ “No, hey--shit, that's not--that's not how I meant it at all.” He starts to reach for Sam again, then stops himself at the last second.

“How did you mean it, then?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s prom, dude. No one should be a wallflower during prom.”

Sam tilts his head, considering. Grizz still can’t quite read what’s going on in his eyes. “Is this a prank? Did somebody dare you?”

“What? Neither!” 

“Then why choose me?” Red splotches are starting to bloom on his cheeks now, his full lips twisting into a frown. “Your friends are going to give you so much shit if you dance with me.”

Grizz sighs and ducks his head, letting his hair fall forward to hide his face. God, this is so much harder than he’d thought it would be. He’s thought about how hard Sam’s life must be, as the only out kid in their whole class--maybe in the whole school--but he hasn’t understood the extent of that until right now. He feels that realization in his chest, a sharp, visceral stab of sympathy pain. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I just...I honestly just want to dance with you.”

Sam’s fingers brush the back of his hand, feather-light, and when Grizz looks up, his frown has faded slightly. “I couldn’t see.”

Grizz pushes his hair back and forces himself to meet Sam’s gaze. His hands are shaking just a little, but the sensation grounds him in this moment--reminds him that this is real. This is his chance. “I don’t care what my friends say.” He stands up; Sam’s eyes go wide. He holds out one hand, gratified to see that it isn’t trembling visibly. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Just as Sam reaches for his hand, the music cuts out and Kelly starts talking. He drops back into his chair, disappointed, and shrugs self-deprecatingly. “Maybe later, I guess.”

Sam toys with the place card in front of him. “Maybe it's for the best.”

“Oh,” Grizz manages, crushed. “Yeah. Um, okay.”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to look awkward. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s fine. I understand.” He tries a smile; it wobbles at the edges, but it’s good enough.

And then Kelly’s saying his name, and he’s not even sure why, but everybody starts cheering, so he makes an attempt to acknowledge them, keeping the smile firmly in place. He focuses his attention on her, then. At least it’s better than thinking about all the myriad ways he's screwed tonight up.

Except it’s not, because Kelly’s clearly spiraling, and wow. It occurs to Grizz, rather belatedly, that he’d actually forgotten about the total shitshow that is the rest of the universe for a few minutes. And now he’s got no choice but to remember.

“--No one needs to leave just yet,” Gwen is saying by the time he manages to focus back in, and Grizz shakes his head. There's a ringing in his ears that has nothing to do with the music that’s just started up again, and his hands are starting to sweat. He knows he should probably stay until the end and help clean up, but everything suddenly feels like too much. The lights, the music, even the fucking _air_ in this room. 

He taps Sam on the shoulder, gently. “Uh, hey, I think I’m gonna go get some air.”

Sam squints at him worriedly. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm just not feeling great all of a sudden.” There’s no point in getting into it here, and it doesn't matter, because all of a sudden Sam's wearing a look of dawning comprehension. 

He nods. “I get it. I kind of want to get out of here, too.”

“You want to walk together? Your house is on my way anyway.” It's not even about his stupid prom daydreams anymore; Grizz can't stand the thought of staying in this room, but the idea of being alone is just as bad. Maybe worse. 

Sam’s smile is tinged with sadness. “Yeah.”

It’s not like his daydreams. They’re silent as they set off in the direction of Sam’s house. The cool breeze is a relief against Grizz’s clammy skin, but he can’t decide if the pressing silence of the night feels pleasant or oppressive.

At one point, about halfway back to Sam’s, Grizz’s hand brushes up against his. They’d started out practically on opposite sides of the sidewalk, but had gradually closed the gap without Grizz even realizing it. “Sorry,” he blurts out, when Sam glances at him.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t smile, but he also doesn’t move away. His gaze is searching as he inspects Grizz’s face. “So, um...did you have fun? Earlier?”

Grizz chews his lower lip. “Yeah, it was cool.”

Sam stops walking, turning his body entirely toward Grizz. Grizz freezes, breath stuttering to a halt. Just as he opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, Sam holds one hand up. _Wait._ “Grizz,” he says haltingly, “I really did want to dance with you.”

Grizz inhales sharply, but Sam’s still talking. 

“I know you said you didn’t care what your friends would have done or said, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “I guess I just...didn’t want to put you in the position of having to learn that you did.”

Grizz shakes his head. “I told them today that after graduation I would’ve been done with them. And I meant that.”

“But now you’re stuck with them.” Sam raises his eyebrows pointedly. “So maybe it’s not such a good idea to take chances like that.”

“I don’t know.” Sighing, Grizz runs both his hands through his hair. “It’s possible that they wouldn’t care.”

Sam blinks at him. “...you’ve met your friends, right?”

“Wait. Have they said things to you? Done things? You’re--are you okay?”

“They didn’t have to do anything to me, Grizz. They didn’t make my life any easier, either.” The smile that twists Sam’s mouth is bitter. “I’m deaf, not blind. I’ve seen how they look at me. I’m sure I can guess what they’ve said.”

“Jesus.” His thoughts are whirling around frantically, trying to find some way to help--something to say that might make Sam hurt less. “Hey, I know it’s, like...a useless thing to say, but...I’m really sorry.”

Sam exhales half a humorless laugh. “Well. Thanks.” 

“You’ll tell me if anything happens, right?”

“Honestly? Probably not.” He’s so close that Grizz can feel him twitch slightly, but his hands stay resolutely by his sides. Overcome yet again with the desire to reach out and touch him, Grizz stuffs his hands into his pockets instead. 

“I’ll be fine,” Sam continues. “I survived four years of high school without having to tell you every time someone was mean to me.” There’s a mocking edge to the words that Grizz has never heard from him before, and he rocks back on his heels, startled. Sam raises his eyebrows, defiant, and Grizz nods slowly.

“Yeah, no, I know. I’m not--I don’t want to fight with you. I know you can take care of yourself.”

“Do you?” 

“Of course I do.” And suddenly he can’t stand it anymore. There’s so much going on in his head, so much he wants to say and do, that it’s completely overwhelming. No matter how small the confession, he’s got to let some of it out. “You think I never noticed how much braver you are than me? You think I didn’t spend the past four years wishing I could be more like you?” He sighs heavily. “God, at least you’re honest with people. I wish I had done that.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot I’ve never told anyone. I was hoping for a fresh start after graduation, you know? And since it’s looking like I can’t have that, I guess I’m just...trying to figure out how to make one here.”

“If you _could_ have that, what would it look like?”

Grizz freezes. The thing is, he _knows_ the answer to that question. He’s known it for a while. He’s just terrified of having it. Terrified of even admitting that he wants it. But Sam’s expression is so open, so genuine, that he actually wants to answer. “I think,” he says slowly, “that I would tell people the truth, even if it meant losing their friendship. Because I would like to have friends who really knew me, and who, um...accepted me anyway. At least then I wouldn’t be so afraid of how people might react. You know?”

“Maybe it’ll help to have a friend who you know won’t judge you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Sam tilts his head, grinning slightly. “I might be able to help with that.”

And now that bubbly feeling is back. Grizz bites his lip on a bright smile and scuffs his shoe on the ground. “That would be really nice.”

Sam starts walking again, jerking his head to get Grizz to follow. “I think I know a guy.” He lets his shoulder bump Grizz’s, gently.

“Oh yeah?” Grizz is pretty sure his grin is edging into goofy territory, but he can’t seem to stifle it and isn’t sure he wants to. And it’s okay anyway, because Sam’s smile is equally bright. “Think you could introduce us?”

“Sure.” He stops again, smiling, and extends his hand. “I’m Sam. It’s nice to finally meet you, Grizz.”

Grizz beams as he takes Sam’s hand. 

It’s right about then that music starts blasting from one of the houses across the street-- someone’s post-prom festivities kicking off with a bang. Grizz jumps, his grip tightening involuntarily. “Sorry!” 

“No worries. You okay?”

“Yeah, just startled. Jesus, I thought the music at prom was bad, but this is ridiculous.”

Sam laughs. “It is. I can feel it from here.”

“Really?”

He nods, and then moves deliberately closer. “Should we take a page out of Will and Allie’s book?”

“How so?”

Sam’s answering grin is mischievous. “Slow dance to a fast song.”

“Wait, wasn’t it the other--” But then Sam is stepping into his space, one hand tentatively finding Grizz’s shoulder, his other hand still holding Grizz’s, and _oh. Shut up, idiot._

Dancing with Sam is different, and not. For the most part, the actual process is the same--dancing is dancing, and _slow_ dancing is pretty much just swaying while turning very slowly in a circle. But, well...it’s Sam. 

Grizz’s other hand is resting hesitantly on Sam’s waist, and even though there are two layers of fabric between Grizz’s skin and Sam’s, the whole thing feels impossibly intimate. He’s never actually been this close to Sam before, and Sam’s chin is tilted up a little so that he can look at Grizz’s face. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Grizz almost laughs; he’s pretty sure nothing’s ever been this okay in his life. But he swallows it down and just nods. “Definitely.”

“Good,” Sam says softly. His lips are parted ever so slightly, and his eyes are absolutely brilliant in the silvery glow of the moonlight. Grizz has never seen anything like it; it’s kind of hard to breathe, looking at him like this.

“Oh, wow,” he says, entirely without meaning to.

“What?”

“It’s just...you.” _How are you even real?_

He’s immediately grateful that he hadn’t said that last part out loud, but his face must be doing something ridiculously obvious, because Sam laughs a little, ducking his head. Except that they’re close enough together that doing so just means that his forehead ends up resting lightly against Grizz’s chest, which is pretty much perfect in every possible way. When he looks up again, he murmurs, “Your heart is beating really fast.”

Grizz flushes, letting out a self-deprecating little laugh. “Yeah.”

Sam stops dancing, but doesn’t let go of Grizz’s hand, gently pulling it toward his own chest until it rests there. “Mine, too.”

He can feel Sam shaking, or maybe it’s him. His throat has gone very dry all of a sudden. He swallows hard; moistens his lips nervously. “Sam?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I--I really want to kiss you.” 

Beneath his hand, Sam’s heart skips a beat. His answering grin is flirtatious. “Then I think you should.”

And before he can lose his nerve, Grizz leans in and brushes his lips gently against Sam’s. It’s a chaste thing, their first kiss, and when he pulls back, Grizz finds himself searching Sam’s face for some clue that it had been okay.

Sam’s eyes flutter open and he smiles, slow and satisfied. “Wow,” he whispers. 

“Was it--”

Sam reaches up to wrap his arms around Grizz’s neck, arching up to kiss him again. When they break apart, Grizz leans forward slightly so that his forehead rests against Sam’s own as Sam whispers, “It was perfect.”

Across the street, someone shrieks with laughter. The music gets briefly louder as the front door bangs open, and a gaggle of people stumble their way down the porch steps. Grizz looks toward the sound on instinct, and Sam turns to look, too. Carefully, he steps out of Grizz’s arms, and takes a step away. “Guess the party’s over.”

“Looks like it,” Grizz replies, rueful. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your door.”

“Thanks.”

Even with the interruption, and its unwelcome reminder of pretty much everything else in Grizz’s life, he finds himself feeling light and hopeful for the first time in way too long as they walk up the driveway toward Sam’s house. So when Sam stops at the door and looks at him one last time, all wide-eyed and beautiful, he finds himself saying, “Can I pick you up for breakfast tomorrow?”

Sam laughs, nodding fondly. “Definitely.”

And even though there are lights on in the windows, even though someone might see, Grizz presses a quick kiss to Sam’s cheek before he steps back. “Good night, Sam.”

“Good night Grizz. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

(He’s not at all ashamed of it when he finds himself glancing back at the house from partway down the sidewalk. Especially when he sees that Sam is still standing in the doorway, watching him walk away.)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was going to be a) short, and b) totally canon compliant. Now it's neither of those things. 
> 
> Neverending thanks and my undying love and devotion to my beautiful best friend and beta, Heart_and_Music!
> 
> Title from the Broadway musical "The Prom"!


End file.
